


Chapter 3: Mixed Feelings (Sam/Dean)

by LadyCrystalCastalia



Series: Plaything (The Freak On His Leash) [Sam/Dean] - COMPLETE [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Porn, Post Season 4, Rating: NC17, Rimming, Schmoop, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Whipping, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000, jealous!Dean, possessive!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCrystalCastalia/pseuds/LadyCrystalCastalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s the only one who gets to call him that, and when he stops, Sam feel like he’s withering inside. Lucifer has risen and Ruby has run away, but rogue angels and a legion of demons are still the least of his worries. He just wants his brother back; because there is nothing in the world like being Dean’s “Sammy”.<br/>A/N: An exploration of Dean’s feelings after Lucifer Rising, of Sam’s guilt and motives for going Ruby-side, and of the boys’ pain and enduring love for each other through their most trying time. Follow the erotically codependent Winchester brothers on their chaotic way back to each other as they try to work out their issues (that damn phone call too): dysfunctional couples’ therapy at its finest ;).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter 3: Mixed Feelings (Sam/Dean)

**CHAPTER 3: MIXED FEELINGS**

 

 

_I keep letting you back in_

_How can I explain myself_  
As painful as this thing has been  
I just can't be with no one else 

Lauryn Hill – X-Factor

 

 

“We won’t be needing these.” 

Sam blushed when the waitress glanced at him. As usual, he had his eyes down but he could always tell when people were looking at him. 

“Oh, and bring me a straw, would you, sweetheart?” Dean added. 

“Sure thing, hon.” 

They were in a mom and pop’s restaurant, thirty minutes away from their neighborhood. When Dean had come back to the motel just before evening, Sam was hungry and secretly hoping to get out after spending the whole day between four walls. Dean had taken him to the _Bus Stop_ , chosen the booth furthest from the entrance to isolate them from the rest of the patrons, and pushed Sam into the corner seat. 

They usually sat face to face, and when Dean had sat next to him, their backs turned to everyone, Sam had known his master had a new game in mind. It was in the details, the many ways in which Dean showed Sam and the rest of the world that he owned him; and tonight, the little twist was that Sam didn’t get to use cutlery. In exchange, he got a menu for the first time and Dean let him pick what he wanted. 

Sam had no problem with the meals his brother had chosen for him so far, but he knew a reward when he saw one and he was proud that his master was pleased with him. He got a little concerned when his knife and fork got confiscated, but didn’t asked questions.  

He found he liked to be kept guessing and in a state he could only describe as constant apprehension of what was to come, mixed with excitement and arousal. At the end of the day, he knew that he would be protected and taken care of, and that any humiliation he would have to suffer would only further endear him to his master. 

The waitress brought the straw and Dean put it in Sam’s glass. Sam bit the inside of his mouth, wondering what was in store for him. Was he going to be forced to pick his food with his mouth, his hands tied behind his back? His brother interrupted his thoughts before he had the chance to indulge in a moment of silent panic.

“Sam?” 

Sam looked at Dean and the images from the last game they had played flashed before his eyes. He turned his gaze elsewhere. “Yes?” 

“I want you to think of something. Something you’d like.” 

Sam tilted his head and Dean explained. 

“Someplace you’d like to go, something you’d like to do, with me.” 

Sam gave a little smile. Any indication that he was succeeding in his task to keep his master satisfied made him happy, and he didn’t need a second to think about Dean’s question. Before he could give his answer, the waitress arrived with their food. 

“Here’s for you...” 

She pushed a plate of grilled chicken salad in front of him. He didn’t look up or say thank you. It seemed rude, and in the beginning, he found it difficult, but his desire to please Dean was stronger, and it had quickly silenced his misgivings.

“And here’s for you.” 

She placed a smoking plate of crispy pork chops and fries in front of Dean. He thanked her and waited for her to leave before pulling a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and placing them around Sam wrists. 

Sam watched his brother eat his meal and drink his beer from the corner of his eyes. He didn’t mind that he was hungry. He liked looking at him, and he would patiently wait his orders. He didn’t have to wait too long. Dean turned toward him, dug his fork into his salad and raised it to Sam’s lips. Sam opened his mouth, surprised. 

He had time to get used to the idea that he might to have to eat like a dog, out of its bowl, if he didn’t want to starve, get extra lashes, or both. At no point had it occurred to him that such a pleasurable option would be made available. He chewed around a smile and opened his mouth to bite into the forkful of chicken and tomato that followed. 

“Don’t look so shocked,” Dean teased with a grin. “The rules are simple. You break ’em, you get in trouble; you’re a good boy, you get rewards. There.” 

Sam shifted in his seat as he took another bite. He had no idea why this made his pants tighter. He was discovering a whole new side of himself under his master’s dexterous guidance. The side of him that didn’t always feel the need to fight, and got off on being dominated, babied, and showered with attention.  

“Drink.” 

Sam closed his lips around the straw as his brother raised the glass to him. The sweet taste of cold soda filled his mouth and Dean pulled the glass away to let him swallow. 

“More?” 

Sam nodded and sucked the cool liquid up with barely disguised pleasure. At this moment, he didn’t really care if the choker never came off. 

“So.” Dean put the glass back on the table. “What do you want?” 

“Kiss me.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. 

“Or, I can kiss you.”  

“No.” The reply was abrupt. “Pick something else.”  

Sam was startled by the brutal change in demeanor. Dean’s tone was harsh, and he looked angry. 

“I…I don’t want anything else.” 

“I said no.” 

“Please.” Sam knew he was pushing, but he couldn’t just let it go. He had always imagined that his first time with his brother would at least include one measly little kiss. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Maybe Dean just needed a little convincing? He let himself slide under the table, kneeled between Dean’s legs, and tried to snap his jeans open with his cuffed hands. 

“Sam, if you don’t want me to pull your pants down and spank you in front of the whole restaurant, I suggest you come back up and sit down right now.”  

It would be his most humiliating lesson yet, especially given the fact that he was no longer allowed to wear underwear, but the fear of being reprimanded publicly was not Sam’s motivation to obey. He just didn’t want to do anything to disappoint Dean, especially after what they had shared earlier in their motel room. 

He pulled himself up, sat down, and let the immensity of what he had lost hit him. Sure, he had never been kissed by Dean before, but after everything else that they had done, the only reason his brother refused to go there was because he was still angry at him. They were making progress, no denying that, but Dean’s brutal rejection reminded him how careless he had once been with his brother’s love, and told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t close to being forgiven. 

“I’m sorry, Master.” 

Dean nodded coldly and went back to munching on his fries. He was afraid of all those feelings that were rushing back, of how quickly Sam had been able to crack the armor which he had to rebuild around himself to shield the scattered pieces of his heart.  

The game they were playing was a double-edged sword. It granted him all the satisfaction he never thought he would have by providing him with the perfect outlet for his frustrations; but it had also transformed their relationship in a matter of days, and reconnected them in ways he hadn’t expected and wasn’t ready for.  

When he was determined in his anger, he had gotten out of this strange habit of never being able to say no to Sam. The realization that, once again, he couldn’t stand to see his brother unhappy annoyed him. He didn’t want to open himself up and give Sam the chance to break him all over again. 

“Eat.” He raised the fork to Sam’s mouth and tried to ignore the anguish in his brother’s eyes. 

Sam shook his head. “Thank you. I’m full,” he said meekly, looking every bit the kicked puppy.  

Dean dropped the fork with impatience, making it ring loudly as it fell on the plate. Sam didn’t get to play that card; he didn’t get to act all hurt, like Dean was the one at fault here. He didn’t get make him feel like he was doing something wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” Sam scrambled. After all the ground he had gained, he was messing up again. He didn’t want to go back to square one. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Dean studied his brother’s face. He knew Sam, and he had grown well acquainted with that other version of him whose words could not be trusted. There was no trace of him there. Just the little brother he adored, unsure, confused, and a little sad that he had managed to incur Dean’s wrath simply by asking for the treat he had earned after being an exemplary student and dutiful slave. 

He sighed, pulled Sam close, and pressed his lips against his. It was gentle, warm, and way more pleasurable than any kiss that didn’t involve tongue had the right to be. He pulled back from the kiss and stabbed his fork into the chicken salad, watching Sam blink lazily, as if he was waking from a dream. His brother’s appetite might not compare to his, but he didn’t believe for a second the boy was full. He raised the food to Sam’s lips. 

“Let’s try this again.”  

Sam complied without hesitation, a bright smile on his face, and Dean had to roll his eyes to keep from responding to it. 

“Is everything to your liking? Oh!.” 

Sam froze around the mouthful of salad as the waitress stood there staring at them. Dean pushed the food deeper into his mouth to force him to chew and answered in a relaxed tone, never taking his eyes off Sam, “We’re fine, thanks. We’ll take two blueberry pies to go. You can leave ’em at the counter… That’ll be all.” 

“Su…sure,” she stuttered, understanding she was dismissed. 

Smiling at the relief on his brother’s face, Dean picked up the soft drink and pushed the straw between Sam’s lips.  

They finished their meal with no more interruptions. When Dean uncuffed his brother’s wrists, signaling the end of the session, Sam whispered, “Thank you, Master,” and followed him to the car.  

He sat quietly while Dean drove, but kept stealing glances until Dean asked, “Got something to say? Speak.” 

Sam opened his mouth. He wanted to say how much that kiss had made him happy. That he would kill to be able to feel Dean’s arms around him, just for a minute. He wanted to say so much, he wanted to say, _I love you_ , but he couldn’t get any of it out. He was afraid if he pushed too hard, too soon, Dean would clam up again and they would be back where they started. He knew how serious their issues were, and he didn’t want to give Dean the impression that he thought they were out of the woods just because he was being nice. 

“Just, thank you,” he said, settling for the safest alternative without having to lie. 

Dean looked at Sam and nodded, not saying a word, even when he dropped Sam off in front of their motel. He wanted some time alone, away from Sam. He felt his emotions were getting jumbled again and he needed some distance. He drove around, looking for the trashiest bar he could find, hoping some booze and an easy lay, or two, would help scrub Sam’s scent off his body.  

The _Spread Eagle_ was as trashy as they came. Dirty floors, sticky tables, and questionable-looking characters gathered around the pool tables, leering at gum-snapping waitresses who had to dodge greasy palms aiming for their backsides at every dark corner.  

After fending off the sure thing who had asked him point blank if he wanted to show her the backseat of his “awesome car”, and politely excusing himself from the already drunk chick who seemed willing to offer way too much in exchange for one more drink, he spent his time at the bar, alone, missing Sam and wondering what his brother was doing.  

“You’re pathetic,” he told himself when he got back inside the Impala. His escape to the saddest dive in town had done nothing to give him some perspective. It wasn’t a complete waste, he was two hundred forty five dollars richer, but still confused as ever. He wanted to stop needing Sam, to stop caring so much, but every day since they had started playing captive and jailer had only made the feelings he was trying to ignore more obvious.  

He parked the car in front of their room and walked to their door. Sam had betrayed him in the worst way, and after everything the little son of a bitch had done, Dean still had him under his skin and he was tired of it. What was it going to take to break the hold his little brother had over him?  

He swung the door open, looking for a fight, when he remembered that Sam didn’t talk back these days, so he went straight for the whip, ready to unleash the fury of a thousand fires on his brother’s back. Maybe then, Sam would break. He would yell that Dean was sick, that he hated him and didn’t want to do this anymore. It would destroy whatever was left between them for good and he could finally send Sam packing, protecting himself from the inevitable heartbreak that awaited him down the road if he let himself fall again.  

He stopped pacing when the bathroom door opened. Sam came out, dripping wet, and wearing only a small towel and he almost barked at him to put some fucking clothes on. 

“Dean, you’re back.” 

A smile bloomed across Sam’s face. He had spent every minute alone missing his brother, hoping he would come back soon, and he was so happy to see him he forgot he wasn’t supposed to speak. He moved toward him but quickly startled back with a tiny gasp. 

He looked down and shuddered, feeling that ice surround him again. Then he remembered his role, dropped his towel and placed himself between the metal panels, waiting for the cuffs and ropes. It was going to hurt like it never had. He could tell by the almost hateful look in Dean’s eyes and the way his brother jerked the whip on the side of his knee.  

He wondered what he had done this time. He wanted to talk to Dean, try to make things better, but he also didn’t want to make them worse by defying the rules again, so he waited, afraid for himself in a way he never had been in his brother’s presence. 

Dean’s hand shook around the braided handle. One look. One goddamn look at that angelic face, smiling at him with what felt like all the love in the world, like he hadn’t seen Dean in too long, and he could already feel the rage drain out of him. 

He threw the whip against the wall with so much violence that Sam jumped as if it had hit him. He was weak, always had been when it came to Sam, and trying to beat him to a pulp wasn’t going to change that fact. He let out a long, defeated sigh. Even crawling on his knees with a leash around his neck, Sam remained the master of his soul. 

“Go to bed, Sam.” he said tiredly, turning away from the naked body shivering feet away from him. 

Sam nodded and slipped under his covers before Dean could change his mind. He let the tears pour quietly, at a loss about what to do. He had never seen Dean look at him like that, with something that looked so much like hate; not the first time he had seen Sam suck on demon blood, not when Sam had walked out of that hotel room without him after the worst fight of their lives, not even when he had learned that his little brother’s eyes had gone demon black while he burned the life out of Lilith. 

He felt his insides shredding, and when he realized his sobs where filling the air, it was already too late. He tried to them bite them back, but the pain was too strong, so he just let them out, not caring if Dean decided he wanted to use that whip after all. Nothing could hurt more than the look on his brother’s face, telling him he had given up on trying to save them, and given up on Sam. 

Lying on his back, Dean pressed his forearm over his eyes with a groan. His brother’s cries shouldn’t have bothered him. Let the little shit cry him a river, wasn’t that his plan when he had walked into the room? But he couldn’t stand it. No matter how pissed he still was, he couldn’t stand it. 

“Sam, come here.” 

Sam wiped his eyes and got out of bed to receive his punishment. He was astounded when Dean pulled his covers up to invite him in. He hesitated a few seconds and joined him without a word. There, he let his brother move him around until he was lying on his side with Dean pressed flush against his back. His eyes welled up again when a strong, protective arm curled around his chest.  

“Sh… Baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

Sam let out a deep sigh of relief, finally understanding what was going on. _I love you, I love you. You don’t have to be afraid, I won’t let you down again. Please believe me,_ he wanted to say, but he knew it wasn’t the right time. He cautiously placed his own hand around Dean’s and raised it to his lips, closing his eyes as he pressed his mouth on his brother’s fingers. He would convince Dean he could trust Sam with his heart if it was the last thing he did.

 

**_Chapter 4: Slave For Your Love_ **


End file.
